


Will O' the Wisp

by TheTomatoQueen



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Coffee Shops, Crime Fighting, Crime Syndicates, Hisoka curses so there's that, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Organized Crime, Will O the Wisp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-06-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7068391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTomatoQueen/pseuds/TheTomatoQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It seemed as if some subtle current of recognition had passed between them... not as if they had met before... but as if they had come close several times until finally an impatient Fate had forced their paths to intersect.” -Lisa Kleypas</p><p>The succulent blossoms of honey suckle were in full bloom when Hisoka first saw ethereal glow of the lights.  After the murder of his parents, he never imagined that life would have favour on him again, but those thoughts changed when the lights led him to a boy.  The boy was solemn, a stark contrast to Hisoka’s boisterousness, though perhaps that is why they fit so well together. Hisoka’s grief began to mend and the boy?  Well, the boy had made his first friend.  Hisoka’s life was whole again until one day when the glowing of his mark vanished as did the boy he had come to know as his pillar. </p><p>Overtime, the glow never returned and Hisoka never saw a trace of the boy again.  That is, until years later in December when the wind was sharp enough to slice metal and snow fell in thick drifts.  Only then was Hisoka distracted from his job as a barista in a coffee shop by a pale blue light and the twinkling of bells above the door.</p><p>Perhaps that is where his fate truly begins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will O' the Wisp

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello! My first fanfic for the Hunter x Hunter fandom and its HisoIllu haha go figure not like Illumi Zoldyck is my fave character for any fandom ever ha ha ha haaaaaaaa (I love him so much OTL ). Ok anyways! I wrote this for the Hunter x Hunter Big Bang. Boy howdy it was such a fun experience! From the group chat (that I didn't really participate in because school but it was fun while I was there) to finally turning the fic in, it was such a fun ride and it was nice to know there are other Hunter x Hunter people out there xD Thank you so much to the admins for orchestrating such a great experience! I don't think it's posted yet but levi-cleans-my-feels was my paired artist so when that artwork is up I'll link it here ^_^ Without further ado, here is this fic.

Hisoka was eight when he first saw them.

They were small, inconspicuous. He wouldn’t have noticed them had it not been for the lilting, flowing motion they seemed to take on. Hardly anything moved in a graveyard after the sun had long set and even less took on an ethereal glow. Though it was the movement of the globes that first attracted Hisoka’s attention, it was their pale blue aura that snatched his interest.

Under the shadow of moonlight, he hopped down from the gravestone he’d been perched upon, feet thudding softly as they touched the grass. Curious golden eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of where the light had disappeared to. He spun once, twice… until finally a glimmer peaking out from behind a looming Celtic cross appeared in his periphery.

With a determined smirk etched upon his lips, Hisoka bounded towards the gravestone and leapt behind it.

Nothing.

The light was nowhere to be found.

“Aw come on,” he sighed, growing bored with the cat and mouse game. His gaze roamed over the etchings in the cross and swept down to the grass that covered the body buried six feet below. Perhaps his mind had been playing a trick on him. It was true that he hadn’t slept well (or at all, really) in the past few weeks. Maybe this was his body’s way of demanding rest.

Because, in the past two weeks that Hisoka had been visiting the cemetery since his parents’ murder, not once had he seen any light that wasn’t moonbeams.

Shaking his head, he stomped away from the cross.

“I’m finally going crazy,” he chuckled to himself, swinging his arms loosely as he traipsed back to his parents’ headstone. 

The looming statue that marked where his parents lay was unnerving, especially in a graveyard full of morbidity. To anyone else it would’ve been a symbol of discomfort, an idiosyncrasy. But then again, Hisoka’s life had been full of idiosyncrasies so perhaps that is why he took comfort in the figure.

The polished stone was carved into the image of a court jester, the corners of its mouth etched into a devious smirk. It was situated in between his parents’ headstones, holding two staffs in its thin hands that crossed over its lithe chest. The staff that touched his father’s grave was topped with a star and his mother’s with a teardrop.

Since birth, Hisoka had been instructed to show no emotion, to always trick those who wanted to hurt him into seeing something else.

“There will be many people who wish to hurt you,” his mother had murmured one night while stroking his soft, fuchsia hair to lull him to sleep. “Never let them see the true you. If they know you, they control you.”

He hadn’t paid much attention at the time, but ever since the murder two weeks ago, he had forged his iron walls and let his mother’s words rule his life. 

But for a singular fleeting moment, he allowed the walls to crumble, the anguish in his eyes showing through as he reached out a hand to touch the gleaming black stone as if it would somehow allow him to be with his parents once more.

“Please come back. Please… I miss you. I-“ he forced out through teary eyes, stopping abruptly when a glow reflected on the stone caught his eyes. He whipped around just in time to see the light from earlier disappear around another headstone, this time to his left.

Wiping the tear tracks from his cheek with the back of his pale hand, he grinned a feral grin and ran after the light.

“I know you’re there. You can stop whatever game you’re playing,” he called out playfully as he pounced around the headstone with a thudding heart.

And saw the small globe of light dancing just above the grass. Hisoka frowned, looking from side to side.

“Hello? Anyone there?” He barked out, eyes narrowing in suspicion. No one answered. Instead, the globes shivered, almost as if in excitement. Suddenly, several more pale globes appeared in succession behind the first, leading further towards the back of the cemetery. His suspicions were on high alert now, but he stepped towards the globe anyways, hands outstretched. Just as he reached out to grab it, it vanished.

Hisoka blinked. How odd. He cocked his head to the side and moved to snatch the next one; however, it disappeared as well. With his mouth set in a determined line, he ran after the glowing globes that vanished the instant he touched them. Around gravestones and under massive statues he dashed until he stretched to latch onto the final globe and was met not with disappearance, but with a pale hand.

His eyes widened as he followed the hand upwards to see another boy a little younger than he was and looking equally as shocked. The boy was slender in frame with wide, dark eyes that appeared hollow and doll-like. Long, inky-black hair fell in ribbons around his face and over his shoulders, a strand of which he idly twisted between restless fingers.

“How did you do that?” Hisoka demanded with a frown, crossing his arms over his chest. The boy allowed his head to fall quizzically to one side. 

“Do what?”

“The thing with the lights. Was it magic?”

“Magic?” The boy asked, face impassive. “No, I don’t believe so. I assumed you were creating the lights. I came to assess if it was a potential enemy.”

Asses a potential enemy? Hisoka snorted. This kid was a riot. Didn’t look a day over four and already sounded like an old geezer. He drummed his fingers on the inside of his arm.

“Well it wasn’t me so I dunno what to tell you,” Hisoka admitted, letting his boredom with the turn of events seep into his tone.

“Are you after me and my family?” The boy continued, expression never changing though his tone was sharp. Hisoka rolled his eyes.

“I don’t give a shit about you let alone the creeps that spawned such a weirdo. I just want to find where those lights were coming from,” he snapped, turning to leave.

“Ah!” 

Hisoka paused at the tenacity of the voice, slowly turning back around.

“Ah?”

“Yes, ah.” 

A roll of his eyes. This kid would be the death of him.

“Could you elaborate on ‘ah’?” Hisoka sighed, expression expectant. 

“I believe I understand the situation now,” the boy stated, looking down at the ground with a hint of confusion. “Though I’m not sure why this has happened…”

“What situation? What happened?” Hisoka snapped, anxiety pooling heavy in his stomach. In his short life he had come to learn that the only situations were bad situations and being in a bad situation was decidedly not a very good situation. The boy blinked out of his haze and he frowned.

“You mean you don’t know?”

“No I don’t know. Could you stop being so fucking vague?” Hisoka growled with a glare. “You’re getting on my nerves.”

“The lights led us to each other,” the boy insisted, eyes widening just a fraction in earnest. Hisoka stepped back warily.

“Look, kid. You’re fucking creeping me out. I don’t know if you’re a spirit or a demon or just weird but- “

“You are my soulmate.” 

Hisoka blinked, dumbfounded.

“Your what,” he stated dryly.

“Soulmate,” the boy reiterated, frowning. “This is the work of Will O’ The Wisps. They appear to lead people to their fate. We were fated to be in each others’ lives.”

“Alright, it was nice meeting you but I really have to be somewhere. Anywhere but here actually,” Hisoka snapped, entirely weirded out by the situation and the boy. As he turned to run away, the boy caught his arm with slender fingers causing a cascade of events.

The first thing Hisoka noticed was the searing heat upon the inside of his left arm. Right where the boy had grabbed him. At first he thought it had been a knife wound or perhaps some sort of poison; however, when he glanced down at the flesh he saw neither. Instead, what he saw was the same ethereal glow of the lights emanating from his ashy pale skin. The boy removed his hand and Hisoka finally was able to see the source of the heat.

It was a small design, no bigger than an average twig, and in the shape of a gilt needle. The body was slim but the top had a small knob of sorts, clearly meant for use as a throwing weapon. The intricate needle was glowing profusely, stinging from the touch of the boy merely seconds prior. When Hisoka glanced up to voice his confusion, he saw the boy staring at something similar.

Instead of on his forearm, the boy’s mark lay on the inside of his hand precisely where he’d grabbed Hisoka. The design did not match the needle, but instead was an intricate motif of playing card suites, all arranged nicely in an elegant quadrant square. With a shiver, Hisoka noted how similar it looked to his family’s crest, the same crest that was denoted by the insignia upon the court jester statue atop his parents’ graves. 

Eventually both the heat and the glowing died down, enough so that the silence between the two boys left looking at each other in the dark was magnanimous. It was the boy who broke it.

“You see? These marks are proof that we are fated to be together,” he murmured, quietly but not at all shy. Hisoka found that he could not refute the matter. With a glance at the needle, he sighed.

“This is the weirdest fucking thing to have ever happened to me but I guess I have no choice but to believe you. Well, if you’re my soulmate, I at least need to know your name.” 

The boy hesitated.

“Illumi.”

“Illumi?”

“Just Illumi. You do not require the knowledge of my last name yet,” he said firmly. Hisoka snorted. Spoken like a page out of his own book.

“Well Illumi, my name is Hisoka. No last name either,” he began, keeping careful eyes on the boy as if to size him up. “A soulmate of mine only has to do one thing… keep up.”

And with that, he ran.

The sticky heat of the late summer’s night quickly caused beads of sweat to form on Hisoka’s forehead as he rushed off through the mausoleums. Even before his parents had been killed, he was always fascinated by the looming stonework and elaborate details of the older graves as he peered inside the thick black-iron fencing during one of he and his mother’s routinely strolls. The structures held a different atmosphere at night, though. One of calmness, trepidation, and melancholy. Despite the previous nights he’d spent in the cemetery reflecting such a mood, Hisoka found that he greatly enjoyed having the company of another, even if that other was exquisitely bizarre.

As predicted, he reached the mausoleums first with Illumi right on his tail. The other boy huffed out a breath and stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. Hisoka couldn’t help but smile at how cute the expression was.

“Unfair. You started at least 10 milliseconds before I did,” Illumi complained, glaring at Hisoka.

“Awwww, is Illumi upset?” Hisoka questioned, stepping forward to brush his thumb over the corner of Illumi’s downturned mouth. “How cute~”

The raven drew his eyebrows together in irritation and smacked the offending hand away.

“Do not call me cute. I could likely kill you before you could touch me again,” he warned, eyes staring straight at Hisoka in challenge. Hisoka, however, simply let his grin grow wider as he crossed his arms.

“That only makes you cuter.” 

A faint blush crept onto Illumi’s face and he ducked his head, letting his hair fall to hide his embarrassment. Unfortunately for him, the dark strands did not help much to hide his expression and Hisoka swore his heart turned over at the sight of the younger boy illuminated by the soft moonlight. 

“Fine. If you think the race was unfair then let’s do another. You can determine the start time and where we’re racing to.” 

Illumi tilted his head back upwards, blinking before responding in a quiet voice.

“We race to the front gates. Starting…. now.” Illumi darted off as quick as his lithe, slender body would allow him. Hisoka made a noise of indignation as he tried to catch up, yelling all the way about “unfairness” and “Illumi you’re a jerk". Unbeknownst to him, as they raced each other amidst the sticky sweet smell of the honeysuckles on that fateful summer night, Illumi allowed himself to smile genuinely for the first time, the pressures of his family matters pushed aside.

They continued to meet every night at midnight for the next few weeks. Most of their times together went akin to when they first met, holding competitions and teasing each other for the fun of it. However, there were more serious occasions, times when Illumi would walk in with a fresh wound and a heavy heart or Hisoka would be immersed in twisted grief brought about by his parents’ murder. Those were the times when their souls became irreversibly fused together.

Illumi never once divulged his last name, but Hisoka did learn that his family was powerful and dangerous, leading him to assume they had dealings with the yakuza. He also learned that Illumi, at the ripe young age of four, was skilled in weaponry and had a difficult time showing his emotions, whether it be enjoyment or sorrow. 

Similarly, Hisoka didn’t say much about himself other than his age, his interests (fighting and making a certain someone emotionally flustered), and that his parents had been killed. He didn’t say how, he wasn’t even entirely sure himself, but from the tone the fuchsia haired boy has used, Illumi knew that it had been an unprecedented and tragic event.

But, regardless of their shaky lives that had melded them into the idiosyncratic people they were, sure enough they found solace in each other and the time spent together amongst the gravestones. Hisoka allowed himself to smile as he sat perched upon the stone base of his parents’ graves. Never did he imagine to find himself fated to be with a child as strange as Illumi, but it wasn’t necessarily unpleasant. In fact, he found the wounds of loss being slowly healed by the other’s friendship. The insanity that he’d felt bubble within him after the death of his parents was ebbing.

Summer air had long since undertaken the crisp undertones of autumn as the months had passed since their first meeting. The temperatures didn’t deter them, though. Hisoka had simply thrown a teal patterned sweatshirt over the white t-shirt and purple shorts he’d been sporting that day. He couldn’t wait for Illumi to show up just to see his nose wrinkle in disgust and complain about the garish colours that were Hisoka’s preferential wardrobe choices. And so he waited.

And waited.

And waited…

And waited until the muted rays of dawn were surfacing upon the horizon, casting pink and orange shadows where the soft silvers of moonlight had previously lain. It was the first time since they’d met that Illumi had not shown.

Maybe he’d been caught in family matters, Hisoka mused as he hauled himself off the gravestone and sluggishly back towards his foster home. He knew from Illumi’s description that his family was spartan when it came to matters of business. It was likely that Illumi had been required to undertake something and had been unable to show up. After all, it was only a matter of time before their streak was broken. It wasn’t as though they could’ve gone forever seeing each other every night.

Illumi would surely be back tomorrow.

But he wasn’t. He didn’t show up that day nor the day after or any of the following days to come. 

The autumn air morphed into the biting cold of winter and still Hisoka sat out at the cemetery every night, waiting for Illumi to return. He didn’t want to believe he would never see the other again. Even though his mark had gone dim, even though he could feel the already fragile pieces of his heart shattering anew, he held onto the hope that his soulmate would return to him.

It was Christmas Eve when that mindset changed. Hisoka had arrived at the cemetery earlier that evening, unhindered by the timing of school. He’d perched at his usual spot upon his parents’ grave, bundled in the thin coat that his foster mother had gifted him with. It was hardly enough to be a true barrier against the icy temperatures and Hisoka found himself shivering madly.  
Between the cold and the darkness, Hisoka eventually lost track of time. It was the sweet clanging of bells from the nearby Church that eventually alerted him to the present and he swiveled his head around to watch as the churchgoers poured out of the dark, wooden front doors. Some stared at him as they walked past, likely to a warm home full of hearty food and comforting family.  
For a moment, Hisoka felt a dull pang in his chest.

“Mommy, look, there’s a boy on that statue.”

Hisoka whipped his head around towards the direction of the voice, leveling the speaker with the most acetic glare his golden eyes could muster. The young girl, no more than four, gasped and hid herself behind her mother who tried to usher her past the cemetery fence.

“It’s rude to stare.”

“But Mommy, he looks so lonely…” The mother paused and glanced back to Hisoka, a mixture of sympathy and guilt readily readable in her eyes. 

“That’s none of your concern. He has people who love him very much, just like you. Now hurry up, we have food warming in the oven and Grandmother is waiting for us.”

With a bitter frown, Hisoka watched as the family hurried off down the snow covered sidewalk, the little girl’s stare lingering on him until she could no longer see the cemetery.

“People who love me, huh?” Hisoka muttered to himself as he hoisted his weight off of the jester statue and plopped down to the ground. He waited for a moment, glancing surreptitiously around for any sign of the pale blue globes then down to his arm where the mark lay dormant as it had for weeks. An exhausted sigh left him as he shook his head and walked out of the cemetery. “Yeah fucking right.”

The lights on the shop windows cast muted shapes on the snowy sidewalks that Hisoka trekked during his walk to the foster house. He kept his head down and paid them no attention. The holiday cheer was not something that he wished to partake in, only endure. As fate would have it, though, if he would’ve only raised his head to eye level and looked in the window of the drug store on the corner of Oak and Bradburry, he would’ve seen a headline that read as so:

_Eldest son of Silva Zoldyck, CEO of Zoldyck Financial, stuck in coma after freak accident._

But Hisoka kept his eyes adamantly glued to the sidewalk in front of him, reflecting the lights like tiny jewels, and trudged down the path unaware of the fate of the boy he had come to know as his soulmate.

\-----20 years later-----

“You’re late. …And bruised again I see. If you don’t start cutting back, you’ll end up in prison and I’d have to fire you. I don’t wish to do that.”

Hisoka grinned lazily at the dark haired man who was leaning one hip against the counter, nose stuffed in the yellowed pages of a well worn book, as per usual. He hadn’t even batted an eyelash at his untimely arrival, preferring instead to ignore the other as he pushed open the swinging barrier that divided the back of the shop from the customer’s area. Deft fingers swiped a dark violet apron from the wooden pole in the corner and tied it around his toned waist.

“Was somebody worried? Chrollo, chrollo,” Hisoka trilled sweetly in a tone that had the raven rolling his eyes. “If you keep that up, everyone will think you’ve gone soft. What happened to the vicious hitman I’ve come to know. Besides, it’s not like you’re in a position to talk about prison.”

It took one second to realize Hisoka had treaded into deep waters.

Chrollo slowly let the front cover of his book fall shut, flicking his grey eyes over to Hisoka. The expression behind them warned of just what he was capable of, the calm before the storm. Yet it didn’t bother Hisoka in the slightest. It aroused him. He always tried to rile his boss up, hoping that one day he would rise to the bait and go out to fight him.

“Do not ever mention my past again,” Chrollo murmured, tone soft yet punctuated. A lascivious smirk wormed its way onto Hisoka’s visage and he carded a hand through his bright fuchsia hair.

“It won’t happen again,” he teased darkly, going to take his place by the register, attentively waiting to whip up whatever concoction the next customer demanded.

Fortunately for his aching body, the shop was relatively slow today as it usually was on Saturday mornings. Most people used this day for rest. They’d receive their usual influx when the sun was bright overhead, illuminating the ice crystals that hung from buildings and making them twinkle like glass figurines. 

Hisoka had been working at the Itsy Bitsy Spider for a little over five years now and, though work was monotonous, it had been the most peaceful years of his life since he was a young child. He’d originally crossed paths with Chrollo when they’d run into each other after one of his late night street fighting matches. Chrollo was a notorious hitman, feared throughout both the underground and the yakuza for his abilities. He had his own circle that stuck to themselves, hardly allowing any outsiders in. In fact, it was nearly a miracle that Chrollo even stopped to speak with Hisoka, a poor street fighter in one of the syndicates his posse ran on the side.

They’d hit it off immediately. Hisoka was attracted to this man’s calm demeanor, a demeanor that he one day hoped to crack, and Chrollo… He wasn’t entirely certain why Chrollo had taken an interest in him. He’d always assumed it was for his fighting capabilities, though he was never certain as he’d never actually witnessed the boss watch one of his matches. While fighting in the syndicates, Hisoka managed to become one with the clique but stayed off the radar enough so that, when Chrollo’s posse was finally busted for their activities, he was not caught up in it.  
He didn’t pay attention to the legal proceedings. Once someone was out of his immediate vicinity, they disinterested him. He’d learned a long time ago amongst looming gravestones and solemn air that becoming involved in a person’s life only led to misery.

So you can imagine his surprise when none other than Chrollo Lucilfer, wearing dark sunglasses and a black hoodie, glided over to him one night after one of his more brutal matches.  
He had just turned twenty-three and celebrated his birthday by being beaten near to a pulp. He was sitting on an overturned milk crate outside of the brick building where the fight was held, looking over the flowering bruises on his pallid skin.

“One day the syndicates will kill you.” 

Hisoka blinked out of his daze of pain and saw Chrollo standing in the alley a little way off. His hands were stuffed in his pockets despite the warm spring air. A lazy smirk that was half induced by the high dosage of pain medications he’d received melted onto his lips.

“Jail bait,” he acknowledged in an overly endearing tone, “Never thought I’d see you in these parts again. Please tell me you came to fight me. I promise I’ll make it fun,” he hinted, letting his eyes roam languidly over the sharp angles of the other’s toned physique. Chrollo simply exhaled tiredly through his nose.

“I was able to pull some strings, have my sentence shortened. They also let me out early on good behaviour.”

“You? Good behaviour? Now that’s a fucking joke if I’ve ever heard one,” Hisoka chuckled, leaning back against the cool brick and letting the temperature change soothe his muscles.

“I am entirely serious,” Chrollo sniffed, crossing his arms. “I came here to see you because I have a proposition.”

That piqued Hisoka’s attention quickly.

“A proposition? Chrollo, love, are you soliciting me for sex? The answer is yes, you know it always has been.”

“Hisoka, I’d ask that you be serious for once. It’s dangerous for me to be near the syndicates and if you are not going to hear me out, then I will leave.”

Hisoka wrinkled his nose to show his annoyance though his lips remained unmoving.

“Thank you. I’m here to ask you to join me. I’ve reunited with others who were also in the Troupe, those who were not sentenced to jail time. I may have received favorability but that does not mean the authorities trust me. They’re still heavily looking into my case. Seeing as how you have been an acquaintance of mine, you could very likely could pulled into it.  
Now, as a fighter who makes money through highly illegal means, I assume this would not be to your favour?”

“What are you saying?” Hisoka asked sharply, his smile gone hostile.

“I’m saying that you’ll end up in prison if you do not change your lifestyle,” Chrollo stated in a bored manner. “However, I’ve decided to be kind and offer you a chance. Some of the Troupe and I are relocating to another part of the city near the retail district and universities. We’re going to stay off the radar and become functioning members of society.”

“You talk as though I’ve already decided to follow you,” Hisoka scoffed, glancing in fury at one of his sharp, purple lacquered nails. Chrollo chuckled, a lilting sound that echoed off the brick facades of the tall buildings towering above them. It sent shivers under Hisoka’s skin.

“You will follow. If you do not, I will see to it that the authorities receive an anonymous tip about a street fighter named The Diabolist.”

“You wouldn’t dare-”

“I would. You know I would. We’ll be waiting for you on Lysander Avenue near the white benches at eight tomorrow morning. I trust you won’t be late,” Chrollo announced flippantly before turning and exiting, leaving a fuming Hisoka in his wake.

Fearing the wrath of the former hitman, Hisoka found himself sitting on the white bus benches on Lysander Avenue the next morning feeling gratuitously groggy and out of place. People streamed by, flurrying through the bustle of life, as Hisoka’s life stood still, waiting to be whisked away into another world. That seemed to be all his life ever was. Find something, become attached, have it ripped away. He’d grown so used to the numbness of loss by now.

Verging on the late side, Chrollo arrived twelve minutes after eight flanked by three people. Hisoka recognized the magenta-haired woman as Machi, the broad he loved to torment. The other two he’d seen only in passing. Shalmak and Uvodon? Uvotin? Ovaltine? He couldn’t remember and, frankly, couldn’t care.

Without word nor explanation, the quartet boarded the next bus that stopped. Hisoka watched as buildings passed by, recognizing the way towards the eastern side of the city. It was an area he hadn’t visited since he’d graduated highschool and he had rather preferred to keep it that way. Seeing familiar sights stirred up pain-wrought memories. He preferred to keep the turmoil buried deep beneath layers of innuendos and caustic remarks. After all, he had a reputation to uphold.

They exited the bus once the streets grew narrower and turned into numbers, storefronts decorated with little flowerpots and crawling ivy. The decor was so picturesque that Hisoka felt queasy looking at it for too long. The queasiness was only exacerbated when Chrollo led them one block down from the bus stop and halted in front of a storefront.

A green awning and a dark green wooden trim framed the glass door that led into the shop. Twin benches sat on either side of the doorway in a state that was worn down but just shabby enough to pass as chic. White planters full of bright crimson flowers hung from every other window sill and the windows themselves stretched from just below the ceiling to waist height. A chalkboard was perched to the right of the door and “The Itsy Bitsy Spider” was scrawled upon it in pale purple chalk.

“No. Fuck no. I’ve said ‘fuck no” many times in my life but this wins. Congratulations, Chrollo. This is officially the grandest and most meaningful ‘FUCK NO’ I will ever say,” Hisoka snorted, already walking down the street but was yanked backwards by fingers holding the soft white fabric of his shirt.

“Uvogin, please find your way to the nearest officer and -” was all he heard behind him before he was spinning around, wrenching himself out of Chrollo’s grasp.

“I hate you.”

“You’ll thank me later.”

The rest was history. At twenty-three years of age, Hisoka was forced to turn his life around by a hitman turned prisoner turned coffee shop owner and became a well-to-do member of society. Gone were the nights of crashing wherever he could because he didn’t have enough cash to pay rent. Instead, after two months of serving up drinks, he bought his own apartment. It was tiny but it worked well for him and he was the happiest he had been since he was eight years old. 

With only the occasional street fight to keep him satiated.

Hey, no one was perfect. Hisoka, even less so.

And that’s how he found himself in the present moment, being scolded by Chrollo for participating in a fight and morosely awaiting the arrival of the typical Saturday afternoon University student customers.

An odd sensation crept up Hisoka’s arm and he glanced down to see the edges of the gilded needle glimmer. He cursed softly. Never in his life had he bothered to hide the mark. To anyone else, it appeared like any other tattoo: one dimensional, still, lifeless. It hadn’t glowed since the last time he’d seen Illumi so no one would ever draw the connection that it was a soulmate marking.

However, recently, it had been flaring up here and there, glowing at the edges when Hisoka least expected it. It started two weeks ago when he was on the nearby University campus, grabbing food from one of the restaurants in the Student Center during his break. A prickly sensation was what he felt first, followed by sharp heat. Thinking he’d spilled his noodles, Hisoka looked down to find the needle glowing blue at the edges. It was faint but it was there.

It hadn’t glowed in twenty years.

Startled and curious, he whipped his head back and forth, yearning for a glimpse of the only person he knew could activate the mark. But that was impossible, right? Illumi was dead. He had to be dead.

But there was the mark, illuminated in part of its glory once again.

Due to the throngs of people jostling to get food, Hisoka was unable to find that long black hair. He assumed it was a fraud, his physiological state playing a horrid trick on him, and left without even paying for his food. He was in a bad mood, the least the University could do was treat him to lunch.

Since then, the mark had been glowing at the strangest times: in the shop, the grocery store, on the bus back to his apartment.

But still no sign of Illumi. He doubted there ever would be. How cruel was the universe to have given him a soulmate, wrenched him away, and still had the gall to play dirty tricks like this?  
The most unfortunate of times to receive the glow was while he was at work. There it was harder to conceal, to pass off as the light coming from a watch he didn’t even wear. Quickly yanking the sleeve of his black long-sleeve shirt down over the needle, Hisoka sighed only to tense again when Chrollo spoke.

“It’s no use hiding that.” Hisoka swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. Fucking Chrollo and his fucking observational skills.

“Hiding what, Chrollo dearest?” He asked, hiding his nerves in layers of caked on sweetness.

“The mark,” he repeated, continuing when he saw Hisoka’s mouth open to protest. “You won’t convince me that it’s a tattoo. For one, it was glowing and, two, I am well versed in mythology. I would know the mark of a Will O’ The Wisp anywhere.”

The plastered smile fell from Hisoka’s face and he massaged his eyes irritatedly with the pads of his fingertips.

“Of-fucking-course you would.”

“They’re quite rare. I’ve never heard of anyone who’s been marked with one before. Your bond must be irreplaceably special,” Chrollo mused, sweeping a cursory glance around the shop. A young couple was talking at a table by the entrance, a middle aged woman with warm honey eyes read a book in the front left corner, and a young man with long white hair partially hidden beneath a blue beanie tapped away on his laptop nearest to the bar. Hisoka watched his boss’s every move, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“It’s no one in the shop so stop looking around like a fifty-year-old pervert,” he snapped.

“They must be close by. You should introduce me.”

“Too bad, sweet cheeks. They’re dead. Been dead for twenty years,” Hisoka scoffed, trying to ignore the dull ache in his chest. Chrollo waved his hand, dismissing the statement.

“If they were dead, your mark could not be glowing.”

“Who knows? Maybe I got knocked around a few too many times in the syndicates, messed up the circuitry in me,” he drawled, grinning ferally when the bells above the shop door clanged to announce new customers.

“Look who it is. Cutie and… a Zoldyck? My my, someone is hanging out with the wrong crowd. What can I do you for?” He purred, darting his tongue out to lick his bottom lip. One of the young men glared icily at him while the other simply ignored the comment, bounding up to the counter with a sunny smile.

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked on Saturdays,” said the smaller one with a dusting of freckles across the bridge of his nose. Admittedly, it was the freckles that first drew the young man to Hisoka, a soft sprinkling that stood out starkly against skin that glowed golden even during the coldest days of winter. Sure, the attraction was merely at the physical level but he couldn’t help but let his soul drink in the atmosphere of such a bright personality.

“Normally I don’t. Machi’s home because her past few meals decided to abandon her so I was called in,” he shrugged, resting his forearms on the marble countertop so he could lean in closer to Gon. A smirk found its way onto his lips when he saw the muscles of the little Zoldyck’s jaw clench.

“Poor girl,” Gon frowned as he glanced up at the menu. From his previous visits, Hisoka knew he had a habit of trying something new everything he came in claiming that it was so boring to drink something he’d already tasted. Hisoka couldn’t say he blamed him. Five years in a coffee shop and he never wanted to look at the stuff ever again. “But at least that means we get to see you! We come in every Saturday this semester. It’s the only day we have free.”

“Is that so? Knowing that, I might just have to ask Chrollo for more Saturday shifts,” Hisoka suggested with an eyebrow raised and a lazy smirk, glancing to the Zoldyck to gauge his reaction. To his credit, his only reaction was to reach out and lace his fingers through Gon’s, the latter of which bringing the entwined hands up and to place a kiss on the Zoldyck’s pale skin.

“You should. I was actually wondering when I’d see you again,” Gon chirped before turning to Chrollo at the register. “One birthday cake latte and a vente black coffee, please.”

“Really now? You just couldn’t bear to stay away from my beautiful face for so long?” Hisoka questioned, pouting his lower lip. “Darling, if you wanted me that badly you only had to ask.” He swore he could see the precise moment when the Zoldyck’s patience shattered into pieces and had to fight back a smirk at the sight.

“Actually, _my_ boyfriend was probably wondering when he’d see you in an orange jumpsuit, asshole,” he snapped, aqua eyes seething with irritation.

“Language, please. We’re in a public space,” Hisoka gasped, raising an offended hand to his chest. “Chrollo, they should be kicked out for harassment.” With a roll of his eyes, Chrollo opened the register with a ‘ding’ and counted out Gon’s change.

“I was actually considering removing _you_ for harassment. Make the drinks or you’re on register duty for a month.”

“Serves you right,” the Zoldyck smirked at the pout Hisoka threw at Chrollo. “Who even is this goob anyways, Gon? You manage to dig up the vilest of… things.” Gon swatted lightly at his boyfriend’s arm.

“Killua! Don’t be so grumpy. He’s a nice person, he just likes to tease. I think. I hope… Anyways! I met him in the coffeeshop after class one day. His name is Hisoka,” Gon explained, tugging the sleeves of his coat down over his tanned hands. The expression on Killua’s face immediately froze as he whipped his head to the side, piercing Hisoka with his inquisitive glare. 

“Your name is Hisoka?” He questioned sharply, leaning in closer to the bar. Hisoka raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Perhaps. Do you know me?” He asked, guarding his tone. Killua’s eyes widened and he glanced briefly towards the glass front door.

“There’s no way…,” Killua muttered, eyebrows furrowed deeply as he shook his head. “But that name is so unique and he kept muttering it so much. It has to be…”

“Kid, just spit it out. As much fun as it is to see such a constipated look on your face, I’m growing rather-“

In this universe, the are seldom moments of perfection. Moments where the happenstances of time align so picturesquely that time itself seems to be frozen. These are the moments when the world is altered, bringing about a change so magnanimous that fate itself could be rewritten. But in fact, fate was simply being restored, the balance returned.

When the coffee shop door opened with the melodic twinkle of bells, fate was reborn.

Killua waved to the newcomer.

Gon narrowed his eyes.

And Hisoka gasped as the mark on his arm flared in heat in response to the soulmate he hadn’t seen in twenty years.

“Ah, Killua, there you are. I know you’re older now but it’s still quite rude to run away from your brother like so. I spent thirteen minutes and forty-three seconds trying to locate you. You wouldn’t- Oh.” The newcomer promptly stopped when his gaze swept to the man behind the counter.

Hisoka grit his teeth against the searing heat of the mark and shot an acidic look at his soulmate.

“What in the fuck.” The man who entered the coffeeshop blinked his deep black eyes as he strode towards the counter, a twinge of hesitance in the way he held his jaw.

“Hello, Hisoka. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He said casually, before turning to Killua. “Killu, do you know this man? Ah, this is quite the unfortunate reunion.” The vein in Hisoka’s forehead threatened to explode as he ground his teeth together.

“Somebody should start explaining this quickly before limbs begin to fly. I can assure you, that is not an empty statement,” Hisoka seethed, eyes still locked on his soulmate’s. “I thought you were dead. Twenty years, Illumi. I spent twenty years forgetting you and you’re telling me you’ve been alive all along?”

Illumi finally looked up at him and Hisoka swear his heart skipped a beat when he reconnected with those endless pools of onyx. With a swift movement of his thin fingers, he swept a tendril of his long hair behind a pale ear, a tell-tale sign of nervousness that Hisoka remembered from so long ago. The tick-tocking of the mantle clock atop a shelf on the right side of the store was the only noise permeating the stark silence.

“I will tell you. I’ve been waiting for a while to tell you this but I could never find the right moment. I assumed you had moved on so I kept my distance,” Illumi divulged in a smooth tone, head tilted to one side. Killua snorted beside him.

“I can’t believe this is the ‘Hisoka’ you kept muttering about in the hospital. I was expecting someone decent. What a let down,” he sighed, shooting an unimpressed frown at Hisoka. Hisoka, however, did not catch the look. Instead, he was caught up in the swirling emotions inside his head, emotions that he thought he’d long since destroyed in order to become an emotionless joker.

“You… you’ve been. And you didn’t… I see,” he finally said, tone eerily calm, before easing into an ominous smirk. “Babe, lean in closer. I’ll only bite if you want me to.”

Illumi blinked hesitantly before pressing his hips against the counter in order to lean closer to Hisoka. The fuchsia-haired man inched towards his soulmate, lips quirked into a smirk, before furling his fists into the folds of Illumi’s pea coat and tugging forward hard enough that the latter had to swipe a hand out for support.

“Do you see this mark?” Hisoka snapped, showing the glowing needle on the inside of his left forearm. “How the hell could I move on from you?” Illumi’s eyes widened, the only indication that he was truly fearful of Hisoka at that moment. He brought up a hand and wrapped it around Hisoka’s fist, which softened considerably at the touch.

“I see your point now. Still, you cannot blame me for wanting to keep a distance. How was I to know you would still want to speak with me after years of no communication. I was never interesting or special,” Illumi murmured, keeping eye contact despite the intimate distance between them. Gon and Killua stared on in shocked interest, while Chrollo listened out of one ear, enough to know what was going on in his shop but not enough to care about the situation.

Hisoka paused, allowing his mouth to catch up to his thoughts. There was no way to describe the chaotic mess in his mind right then. It was almost as if he were drunk but without the alcohol or the light feeling or the sex that usually followed. Well, maybe without the sex that usually followed. 

“We shouldn’t be having this conversation in here,” he finally stated, voice back under the playful control he typically exuded, as he released Illumi’s pea coat and stepped back. “Especially not in front of nosy brothers and nosy brother’s boyfriends.”

Killua immediately bristled at the comment, electric blue eyes narrowing in confrontation. Hisoka couldn’t help but smile at the way he resembled his brother when he grew irritated.

“Alright, for the record, you creepy psychotic clown, I have a right to eavesdrop on my brother when his soulmate is someone who looks like they should have a life sentence in jail,” Killua snapped, crossing his arms and stepping closer to the bar in challenge. Hisoka snorted.

“Down, boy. If anything, it’s your brother who has explaining to do,” Hisoka pointed out, glancing towards Illumi who was studying the menu very thoughtfully all of a sudden. “Yes, you. You can’t ignore me this time, Illumi. I want answers and my answers will come tomorrow at eight. You know where I’ll be waiting. If you’re late, I’ll assume that you no longer want to be a part of my life.”

Throwing his violet apron on the wooden rack, Hisoka stormed out of the back door with the ultimatum thick in the air.

\-----------------------

“I used to visit this place often after waking up,” a lilting voice to Hisoka’s left murmured, growing louder as the speaker stepped closer. A wash of relief settled over Hisoka, an emotion that thoroughly confused him.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t think you’d actually show,” he quipped, facing Illumi with a smirk. Illumi tilted his head slightly, allowing a hint of a smile to quirk the side of his mouth.

“Is that so? As if I could abandon my soulmate.”

“You managed to do so for twenty years. I’d imagine a lifetime would be no problem for you.”

Hisoka immediately regretted his sharp words after seeing intense pain soften the edges of Illumi’s eyes before he could carefully conceal his reaction. The atmosphere was tense between the two, thick with confusion, anguish, and secrets. Although he had known the boy first as Illumi-his-soulmate, it was Illumi-his-best-friend whom he missed most dearly. The reticence was killing him. After several painful seconds, Illumi broke the tension with his eyes cast away.

“I… I apologize. I never meant for you to assume you were unwanted by me. Perhaps it would be better if you knew the whole story,” he suggested, glancing up at the moon that shone bright against the dusky night sky.

“Yeah that might be a tad bit helpful, Lumi,” Hisoka said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “Like the fact that you’re a damn Zoldyck, for fuck’s sake. That would’ve been nice to know beforehand.”

An airy chuckle left Illumi’s lips as he came to rest upon the jester headstone beside Hisoka. The din of cars passing by the city streets buzzed in the background as they shivered together in front of the last remaining tie Hisoka had to his family. Hisoka bit his lip in bitter humour, glancing to his right and feeling his heart lurch at the sight of Illumi’s nose chapped red from the frigid winter air. The man was so beautiful it was hard to gaze upon.

“As I’m sure you know or have guessed, my father has deep ties with the yakuza,” Illumi began softly, tracing patterns across the black marble with his spindly fingers. “I was trained from a young age in weaponry and deception in order to become a perfect henchman for my father’s disposal and mother’s machinations. Because they trained me so hard, my mind splintered, or so the doctor said. I wouldn’t remember. My father did use to tell stories of my laughter when I was very young, but he stopped eventually, likely because of the guilt.

The missions were easy, dangerous but not enough to kill a four-year-old. Until my father sent me into one that got out of his control. I was shot and beat and my mind was still so young that it shut down to block out the pain. I didn’t regain consciousness until two years ago and, by then, I assumed you would have have rid yourself of any memory of a yakuza boss’s kid.” The air was stagnant as Illumi finished his tale, biting his lip and glancing away from Hisoka. It was a lot of information to take in. Hisoka wasn’t sure how to process it so he settled on the only emotion he’d known for so long: anger. Just as he opened his mouth to retort, however, Illumi interrupted with a voice barely above a whisper.

“I missed you though. Every day,” he murmured, blinking slowly. 

Hisoka’s breath caught in his throat, mid torn betwixt fury and anguish. Fury at the situation, at Illumi’s family, at himself. Anguish at deciding whether to accept this man back into his life or cut the ties and avoid ever having to suffer a loss so great again.

But really, the choice was made for him when he swiveled his gaze to the side and was met with the solemn look of dark eyes. He did what any other person would have done.  
He grabbed Illumi’s cheeks with both hands and brought them slamming together in a fierce kiss, lips tingling from the sheer force of the collision. Illumi chirped in surprise but soon enough, his lips were moving as well, guarded and calculated as his personality but with warmth bubbling below the surface. After a moment, lips parted and Hisoka wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Oh,” Illumi murmured, blinking.

“Oh,” Hisoka echoed.

“You still desire me?”  
Hisoka took his sweet time in answering, allowing his mind to peruse the twenty-eight years he’d been alive. From being orphaned, to meeting the oddball young boy, to experiencing the greatest loss of his life. Fighting in the syndicates. Meeting Chrollo and his gang. Letting his heart mend after losing his soulmate. Having his soulmate return to him.

Deep in the murky dregs of what he once called a heart, he knew there was only one answer. It might not have been in his best interests, but when it came to Illumi, there hardly were any interests at all. Forever he would be branded with the mark of this man.

And so, with a languorous smirk rising upon his lips, he turned and gave his answer as the mark on his arm swelled to a white hot glow.

**Author's Note:**

> Again thank you so much for reading and thank you my paired artist and to all the admins over at the Hunter x Hunter Big Bang tumblr!!!! You guys rock!


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